Daniel Album: Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player Date: 1973 Genre: Pop Artist: Elton John
Elton John is a singer, pianist, and composer. Working in collaboration with Bernie Taupin since 1967 Elton John is among the most successful artists of all time. In his six-decade career he has been acclaimed by critics and musicians, especially for his work during the 1970s and his lasting impact on the music industry
The pulse races when passions are liquid hot not even your kiss can staunch the flow of lust and the delicate pearls of sweat form on your brow I know your hunger is melting too I feel it bubbling on your lips as we kiss you start to whisper a breeze on my ear all I can say
“just kiss me, baby, just kiss me” my body burning like molten rock and coolness of your hands on my hips your mouth sizzling down my bare chest anticipation raging for the drag of your nail over the fly off my jeans my jeans my jeans?
“you left them before you fell, babe before you fell you fell” too late I am lost to your lips taking me in into the depths of sweet penetration thrusting
what the hell is that noise piercing my brain without mercy
another plastic box shatters against the wall damn you alarm can you not let me dream?
With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright. The child’s head, bent to the book-colored shelves, Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering, Moving in blind grace … yet from the mural, Care The grey-eyed one, fishing the morning mist, Seizes the baby hero by the hair And whispers, in the tongue of gods and children, Words of a doom as ecumenical as dawn But blanched like dawn, with dew. The children’s cries Are to men the cries of crickets, dense with warmth — But dip a finger into Fafnir, taste it, And all their words are plain as chance and pain. Their tales are full of sorcerers and ogres Because their lives are: the capricious infinite That, like parents, no one has yet escaped Except by luck or magic; and since strength And wit are useless, be kind or stupid, wait Some power’s gratitude, the tide of things. Read meanwhile … hunt among the shelves, as dogs do, grasses, And find one cure for Everychild’s diseases Beginning: Once upon a time there was A wolf that fed, a mouse that warned, a bear that rode A boy. Us men, alas! wolves, mice, bears bore. And yet wolves, mice, bears, children, gods and men In slow preambulation up and down the shelves Of the universe are seeking … who knows except themselves? What some escape to, some escape: if we find Swann’s Way better than our own, an trudge on at the back Of the north wind to — to — somewhere east Of the sun, west of the moon, it is because we live By trading another’s sorrow for our own; another’s Impossibilities, still unbelieved in, for our own … “I am myself still?” For a little while, forget: The world’s selves cure that short disease, myself, And we see bending to us, dewy-eyed, the great CHANGE, dear to all things not to themselves endeared
Randall Jarrell Born: 6 May 1914, Tennessee, USA Nationality: American Died: 14 October 1965, North Carolina, USA
Jarrell was a literary critic, children’s author, essayist, novelist, and poet. He was the 11th Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. Jarrell received the Guggenheim Fellowship award for 1947-48, and the National Book Award for Poetry in 1961
The main rule of the Descort poem is that each line needs to be different from every other line in the poem. Therefore the poem has varying line lengths, and meters, no rhyme, and no refrains.
Example
Turn of Season by JezzieG
No more daffodils sway in the lane The spring has lost the dancing breeze Replaced by April’s tears of rain Frogs are courting by the slippery logs Never asking more than a brief encounter And as April turns to May Dog bark in the green grass fields Amid the budding dandelions And yellow buttercups And the summer begins to blossom
You may enlarge any image in this blog by clicking on it. Click again for a detailed view. I was very fortunate a week ago to capture images of a male American Kestrel just as he took off. Kestrels give little or no warning when they take flight. It was a coincidence that I had […]
Text and Images By Jeremiah Gilbert Ecuador’s Otavalo Market, locally known as Plaza de los Ponchos or Centenario Market, is one of the largest indigenous markets in Latin America, attracting both locals and tourists from all around the world. Located in the Andean highlands of Ecuador, the market is known for its vibrant…
Even in the pissing rain, this was a great night of metal. Master of Puppets in the same pissing rain was bangin’ – Thank you Metallica. Oh yeah you know these boys ain’t done yet
The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone; The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes, Then thinks upon the fire and hurries back; The gipsy knocks his hands and tucks them up, And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow, Beneath the oak which breaks away the wind, And bushes close in snow like hovel warm; There tainted mutton wastes upon the coals, And the half-wasted dog squats close and rubs, Then feels the heat too strong, and goes aloof; He watches well, but none a bit can spare, And vainly waits the morsel thrown away. ‘Tis thus they live – a picture to the place, A quiet, pilfering, unprotected race